Not Your Choir Boy, Lady Hawke
by KiwiDayDreams
Summary: A glance into Merrill's Eluvian has Sebastian acting peculiar, and it seems he's got his eye on Hawke. As she tries to find the source of his change, Hawke discovers this new, devious Sebastian might be her dream come true. Kink-meme fill. Mature content.


_Kink-meme fill. Mature content and naughty talk ahead._

* * *

><p>Sebastian awoke to the feeling of his heart pounding not only in his chest, but in his ears. His breathing was ragged, bed sheets askew and tangled about his form as though he had been thrashing about in his sleep. As his vibrant blue eyes took in the stillness of the dark in his room, his panic began to subside. A dream. It had been nothing but a dream.<p>

As he extracted his legs from the twists of covers he brought them over the side of his bed and sat there. Sliding his hand over his mussed hair to brush wayward strands out of his face, he tried to recall what had alarmed him so. He searched his foggy, sleep-addled mind for images of demons, of murderers, of abominations, but none of them sprang forth as the thing that had riled him. He rose and paced about the room in little but his tunic and small clothes, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes focused on nothing in particular as they wandered the shadowed corners of his bedroom; his bed, his armor, his family bow.

The bow Hawke had retrieved for him. His path across the cold stone floor halted as a memory tickled at the back of his mind. Hawke. He had been dreaming of Hawke. He remembered having been fearful for her. It was not new; he worried over her all the time though he knew it was probably not needed. She was very good at taking care of herself and getting through the worst of situations on wit alone, but that didn't mean he didn't pray for her safety every night. A woman so genuine and selfless as she was rare and he hated the thought that one day things would not work out in her favor. So he fought by her side by day and prayed for her each night.

Had she been at the hands of something dreadful in his dream, he wondered, something he couldn't save her from? Holy Andraste, the thought of being that helpless was terrifying. He rounded and settled back down on the bed with his hands on his knees as he leaned against the wall. With the initial rush of his nightmare slowly ebbing away, the remainder of his exhaustion from the day's battles crept back in. His eyes lidded a little, and half-formed thoughts of Hawke played in his head.

He adored her smile, that half crooked grin when she was cracking taunting remarks at her enemies, or when she was teasing her companions. The way her lips curled just at the corner always hinted at something unsaid, something you always wanted to find out. Something a man of the cloth should never know.

There had been many a time he'd thought of kissing her when she smiled like that, particularly at him, but he quickly ushered the impulse away and often ended up praying later. That moment, as he sat somewhere drifting between sleep and awake in his mind, he did no such thing. He watched her lips press together, almost pouting out as he was certain he could see the very path that smirk traveled over them before appearing. Sebastian did not look away, did not hurry to change the subject, but simply seized her by the hips and drove his mouth against hers, unrelenting tongue and all.

He could feel the heat of her mouth, the lingering taste of wine on her tongue and every inch of her curves as he pressed his hips against her. His nerves seemed to light on fire as he all but devoured her, hands finding purchase anywhere and everywhere they pleased. Gods, were they still in the Chantry? Had no one seen them there?

Then, suddenly, he realized he was a third party to all this, watching himself a mere heartbeat away from desecrating the Chantry floor with her. When he saw this other Sebastian turn his head to look at him, a sly, dark, all-to-familiar roguish grin on his face, he felt his breath catch.

"You cannot deny yourself this; these pleasures of the flesh," he heard himself say as Hawke continued to arch against him yearningly. "You cannot deny _her_ this. Don't you see how she looks at you? She's practically begging you." His hand gripped her as he drove his hips down against her and she let out a pitiful whimper.

"Sebastian!" Hawke moaned out.

"Stop this! I took my vows for a reason!"

He startled awake again, that frantic feeling back at full force and making him sweat. Maker, where had this madness come from? He had felt helpless to defend Hawke against something, but he never suspected it was himself.

* * *

><p><em>One week prior...<em>

He normally wouldn't have entered someone's home without being invited, but when Hawke seemed to be taking a rather long time, he had been volunteered by Fenris and Varric to go retrieve her. Of course he had made it a point to at least knock first, but when no answer came he slowly edged the door open and slipped inside Merrill's house. He had been to visit with Hawke before, and the alienage hovel was so small he wondered how it could be that they had not heard him.

"Hello?" he ventured. "Hawke?" A pause.

"I'm in here, Sebastian! Just a moment! I'll be right out!" he heard her call. Opting to wait for her rather than return outside, he took the time to admire the vestiges of Merrill's Dalish heritage that she had begun to adorn her home with. He admired the craftsmanship of their culture and the sheer artistry in their woodworking, like they could bend the very branches to their will. The small statue of a Halla that Hawke had given Merrill sat on the mantle of her fireplace, not a crack or imperfection in its finely carved surface.

As he paced about he caught sight of the room just at the back and what looked like a large wooden sculpture inside. Curiously, he stepped to the doorway to see what this was and realized it was not a sculpture, but a mirror, likely the one that Hawke had mentioned Merrill showing to her. It was as impressive as all the other Dalish workings he'd seen, possibly even more so. Despite the fact Sebastian had long ago nixed his habit of wandering unbidden into other people's rooms, he couldn't ignore the feeling that he wanted to take a closer look.

His reflection greeted him as he drew closer, though it became split where the glass was missing or cracked. He shifted a little from foot to foot as a feeling of unease settled in him. Something in how his reflection was looking at him put him off, if that made any sense. In fact, when he moved it didn't appear to follow him with the exactness one would expect from a mirror image. It was if there was a slight delay between his motions and those he saw.

"Sebastian?" Hawke's voice came from the main room.

"I am right here, my lady," he said, giving the mirror one last glance before turning to meet her. Strange, but he hadn't remembered smiling like that.

"Sorry that took so long," Hawke said as he escorted her out. "Merrill had a wonderful Dalish story to share with me about the carvings on that ring I found."

"It was no trouble."

"Where did you wander off to?" she asked, eying him with a playfully suspicious look.

"Oh, I...," he trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty for having been snooping about. _Not very gentlemanly of you, Sebastian_. "I saw that mirror you spoke of before."

"The Eluvian?" she asked, and he nodded.

"It's a lovely piece, though a little strange."

"It is," Hawke said. "Merrill hasn't gotten it working yet, though I sort of hope she never does."

"How is it 'not working'?" he asked, puzzled. As far as he knew, all mirrors needed to do were reflect and that was the end of it.

"I'm not sure, exactly. Apparently, it's supposed to have some mystical power? Merrill said it caused two of her clan to vanish when they found it in tact in some Dalish ruins."

"That does not bode well," he said, mostly to himself. Hawke shivered a little visibly as though she had just caught a chill.

"No. Honestly, the thing gives me an eerie feeling. I mean, the fact it doesn't even reflect anything..."

"What do you mean?" he stopped in his tracks. Hawke looked at him and gave a shrug.

"It doesn't reflect anything." Sebastian wanted to argue the point, but he was too busy feeling as though he had just stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. He had seen his reflection clearly in what sounded like a cursed, non-reflective mirror. No, this definitely did not bode well. When he caught up to her and matched her stride, he wanted to ask her again if she was certain in what she had seen or heard from Merrill, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing.

Either way, he decided it might be prudent to include a few additional thoughts in his prayers that evening.

* * *

><p>If there was one thing that Hawke inherited from her father above all others, it was his charm. She could say the most outlandish things at all the wrong times and it always happened to work out in her favor. It was pure habit for her to wink an eye or toss a coy expression towards companion and enemy alike, and the former usually knew it was nothing more than a playful jest. There was only one person that she hoped might take them seriously and, unfortunately, he was often too far buried in reviewing the chant or praying to notice. She made it her own positively evil game to see if she could make him react. Andraste help the poor ex-prince when he had Isabela on one side of him and Hawke on the other. It must have been a holy nightmare.<p>

Despite all her prodding, Hawke didn't mind Sebastian's reserved nature in the slightest. Kirkwall was already full of enough back-stabbing troublemakers and the fact that he was tried and true without wanting anything in return was a breath of fresh air. It also didn't hurt that he was the picture of a perfect gentleman and she simply couldn't get enough of just listening to him talk to her softly in the Chantry, rolling his r's and watching her with those pretty blue eyes. He was a dedicated and loyal man who she knew she would always have her back and keep her safe should she need him.

She had become so accustomed to seeing him in his armor that she had begun to suspect he slept in it. There was never a time when she went to retrieve him from the Chantry where he needed a moment to prepare. She liked to think that maybe it was because he was more eager to be away from the preaching than he let on, or maybe that he was always just waiting for _her_. All fantasies aside, when she climbed the steps to where she usually found him knelt in prayer, she was baffled to see him missing. The Grand Cleric seemed to sense her confusion.

"He hasn't been out of his room since yesterday evening, I'm afraid," she said. "He tells me he has fallen ill so I suggested he dedicate this day to rest."

"Well, I could always have An...," Hawke trailed off. "I know a friend who might be able to help. Is he taking visitors?"

"Not as far as I know, though he might make an exception for you." Hawke ventured to the hall at the back where the brothers and sisters of the Chantry stayed, stopping at the door Elthina had indicated. This was the first time she had been to his room since he made it a point to do the proper thing and always meet her in public. Gentlemen and their ladies didn't skulk in dark alleys, after all.

She hesitated, wondering if he'd be upset that she had come by, but opted to knock anyway. If he truly was ill, then she wanted to help. There was no answer, so she proceeded to knock again.

"Sebastian? It's Hawke," she said, leaning near to the door. "I heard you were sick and wanted to check up on you. Is everything alright?"

"I'm not feeling well, Hawke. I don't want you getting sick. You should go."

"Nonsense," she said. "I never get sick. Just let me get a look at you so I can make sure you aren't wasting away in there. I'm not leaving until I have proof." There was silence, and then a rustle, followed by the door latch unhooking. Hawke stepped back as the door opened a crack and Sebastian stood there, shadowed by the dark of his room. The first thing she noticed was that his armor was missing and he was standing there in nothing but trousers and a very loose, unlaced shirt. She wondered if she'd woken him from a sound sleep, especially given the fact his hair looked a mess. A rather _attractive _mess, that is. She thought he was handsome in his day-to-day, but if this is what he looked like after a night's sleep? Maker, forgive her, but maybe she should try to catch him like this more often.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I am not the best company right now," he said, voice rumbling in his throat. He had definitely been sleeping. Hawke crossed her arms and shook her head before reaching up and placing her hand on his forehead.

"You are absolutely burning up. What in Thedas could get you so hot?" She pressed the backs of fingers to his cheeks.

"I've got some ideas," he said lowly, accent rolling thick as his eyes fixed intensely on her, roaming non-discreetly once over.

Hawke began to chuckle like she usually did after she had made some joke, but then it dawned on her that she hadn't been the one making the teasing remark and she abruptly stopped and looked at him.

"What?" she asked and was shocked when she attempted to pull her hand back but found Sebastian's fingers wrapped firmly about her wrist. Something in his expression made her stomach twist uncomfortably, as if she'd inadvertently walked in on something terribly naughty. She ushered the feeling away as best she could and offered him an awkward smile. "I can't exactly go if you have a hold on my hand, Sebastian.

"Who said I wanted you to go?"

"Um, you?" she said, voice pitching in confusion.

"Did I? Peculiar," he said.

"You really must be ill. You're not making a bit of sense," she said, trying to sound amused by the whole thing but unable to quell the strange mixture of anxiousness and thrill rising in her. He was acting so unlike himself, like he was drunk or not entirely there. Then again, she had never really experienced a drunk Sebastian so she couldn't be sure of _what _he might be like as such. All she knew is she had a compulsion to run away with how his blue eyes kept looking at her as though she was his unsuspecting prey. On the other hand, a small part of her wondered just what else he might do should she stay.

"Could be I'm coming to my senses, rather," he offered as he pressed his lips to her palm, sending a jolt of surprise through her.

"Okaaaay," she said, reaching up to extract her hand now. "You need to get back to bed." She grasped his shoulders and turned him around, ushering him back into the room. Thinking back on it, this was probably a fool move on her part, because she had just eliminated the possibility of anyone seeing her and Sebastian seemed to think that meant all rules were null and void. All it took was a few steps away from the door for him to turn the tables on her, slamming the door shut by forcing her body up against it. One of his hands pressed up beside her head while the other hovered over her hip and wandered upward, not touching, but clearly tempted. "Sebastian! What in the name of the M-!"

"Please... Not that. Not now," he said quietly, the hand at the door coming to her jaw and running his thumb over her lips. Sebastian didn't want her to say the Maker's name now? Hawke was totally at a loss for what was going on, in general anyway, because the ex-prince's other hand was more than obvious in its intent.

"Enough. You are obviously in need of some help," she huffed, bringing her own arms up to force his away. He laughed, and not in that innocently lighthearted way.

"You have _no _idea, lass," he said. Hawke always prided herself on being as quick with her blades as she was with her wit, but Sebastian was faster. Before she could blink he had his mouth full on against hers, breathing hot against her lips while a strong hand seized her thigh and brought her leg up to his hip. It was likely shock that prevented her from initially reacting, but as soon as she felt him grind himself up against her, her brain checked back in.

Her leg shifted and shoved him back as her instincts pulled one of her blades into her hand to bring between them before he could come near again. She heaved a few breaths, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and, though she didn't recognize it then, arousal. Her body ached, puzzled as to why she wasn't continuing these things that made it feel so good, but her mind reeled because she didn't understand what was wrong with him. This was not Sebastian – not the one she knew.

"Okay, okay," he said, brushing his wayward hair back with a rake of his hand through the auburn strands. "Clearly, I have offended you."

"Clearly," she breathed, standing at the ready and feeling strange holding the knife up to her ally.

"I'm very sorry, Hawke. It's the fever talking," he said, tone turning soft. "You know I would never do anything to upset you. Not on purpose." Hawke shook her head, acknowledging this. "Of course... I never thought my being close would upset you." He was starting to look familiar again, eyes gentle, brows curved up in concern.

"It...It doesn't...just... Not like that," she fumbled.

"Not like...what...exactly?"

What was he doing? The genuine and sober tone of the Chantry brother she knew was coming from his lips, but his eyes were betraying something beneath it. It wasn't incredibly obvious, the slightest of predatory glints that she supposed she only recognized because she'd seen it many a time in Kirkwall. This sort of slick deception was not a common skill, and that's likely what made the shiver run down her spine. For the first time since they met, she had absolutely no idea how to read him.

Her hand, normally so steady and sure with the blade clasped in it, shuddered slightly when she saw him begin to step towards her again. The movement was eerily silent in the absence of his usual armor and boots. He may as well have been a Shade skimming about in the shadows.

"Hawke," he said, accent curling heavy around how he drew out her name. "What...am I not supposed to do..." His throat was level with the sharp edge of her knife now, which he purposefully pressed into, blatantly daring her while his eyes continued to demand her attention. "...to you?"

"Sebastian," Hawke said warningly, steadying the blade best she could against the tender flesh of his neck.

"What have I done to make you tremble so? Was it something terrible...or something terribly delicious? You can tell me, lass. I am a brother...and I would hear your confession."

Desperately needing to get away from him, she dared to pull her blade back and rushed for the door. The fear that had settled uncomfortably in her stomach told her that she was a fool for turning her back, that he would be on her for sure, but she was out the door and running down the hallway alone. She passed the Grand Cleric on her way out, too shaken to stop or tell her anything about Sebastian's bizarre behavior. She had never held anything against the Chantry specifically, but, right then, she couldn't be farther from it.

* * *

><p>Hawke wandered Hightown and Lowtown for the remainder of the day, not sure where she wanted to go and not feeling there was anywhere she could retreat. It may have helped for her to speak to her friends at the Hanged Man about what had happened. They might have been able to provide some insight into this sudden bout of madness the ex-prince was suffering. Yet, a strangely twisted bit of logic in her felt like saying anything would have been betraying Sebastian's trust some how. He was sick. He and Elthina had said so themselves. That was not a crime and she'd heard of fevers that drove men out of their right minds before.<p>

She whirled on her heel, heading back towards Lowtown again. She had to tell Anders at the very least. He was a healer and as such he could have some ideas on how to help. When she described what she'd seen, though, she thought it might be best to keep the finer details to herself. She wouldn't want to embarrass Sebastian, after all, because she was certain if Chantry-Sebastian knew he'd behaved in such a manner he would be mortified.

Her feet halted at the top of a stairway and she paced in a circle, fingers to her lips. Maker, why was she thinking about him like he was two people? He was the same Sebastian, wasn't he? He hadn't suddenly been replaced by some demon or -

"Oh, blast," she said aloud, suddenly remembering his mention of the Eluvian a few days prior. Hawke knew Merrill had been working night and day on the cursed thing, but she thought that the elf's efforts had been fruitless. At least, that's what she had said. Oh, why hadn't she taken it more seriously when he said he'd seen his reflection? What if the mirror had finally channeled a demon and it had possessed him? Somehow the theory made everything about the situation make some sort of sense. So, she would go to Merrill and then Anders. They would get this sorted out and exorcise the demon and Sebastian would be right as rain again.

She grasped her arms as she felt a shiver course through her at the sudden memory of his mouth on hers, of the way he practically purred her name. At the time when he suggested she had been enjoying his advances, she had wanted to give him a healthy wallop over the head. Now, she guiltily considered it, thinking of him looking a gorgeous, disheveled mess as he stood in that doorway. So raw, so utterly un-Sebastian.

Hawke decided it was best that she get moving before that tingle that was starting at the base of her neck tickled it's way down to more sensitive places. She high-tailed it back down to Lowtown and headed for the alienage like the woman on a mission she was. When she reached Merrill's hovel she knocked so furiously on the door that her knuckles began to hurt. The rapping must have sounded as urgent as she felt, because Merrill cracked open the door cautiously at first, but once she saw it was Hawke she opened it and let her friend inside.

"You startled me, Hawke," she said as the human began to pace her living room. "Is there something the matter?"

"Merrill, have you repaired the Eluvian?"

"The Eluvian?" she asked, fiddling with her fingertips. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm not any closer than I was the last time we spoke of it. To be honest... I haven't been thinking about it at all the past few weeks." She sounded like she felt guilty for neglecting the project she had insisted she was dedicating her life to, but that wasn't what troubled Hawke. If anything, she was glad Merrill was branching out into other interests as long as they didn't involve more blood magic. No, what bothered her was the fact that the mirror had been sitting dead in Merrill's home for some time now and if she hadn't fixed it there was no explanation for how it could have affected Sebastian.

"Are you certain that it hasn't done anything out of the ordinary lately? There's been no magic coming from it at all?"

"I would have sensed it if there was, I think," Merrill replied, turning her large, inquisitive eyes towards Hawke now and tilting her head. "I didn't think you condoned my interest in the mirror. Why bring it up now?"

"I don't, but that's because I was afraid of something like this."

"Like what?" Hawke hesitated, unsure of how to explain.

"Sebastian is acting very strange. He's...not himself at all, but he told me that he looked into the Eluvian and saw his reflection, Merrill. His _reflection_."

"That's silly. It doesn't reflect anything."

"That's what I said! But he as fine until he looked into it last week."

"Are you suggesting my broken mirror has changed him?" Hawke mentally groaned at the elf's tone. She was getting defensive again. No doubt Hawke had become very repetitive with Merrill. Whenever the subject of restoring the Eluvian came up she was very adamant about voicing her disapproval. The ancient mirror had sounded like nothing but trouble from the start, but it was as though the more she fought it, the more Merrill was intent on completing it. It was one of the few things they never saw eye-to-eye on, which was a shame, because she was an otherwise very lovely person to be around.

Hawke lifted her hands to halt the conversation, not wanting to get into a debate right now.

"I just wanted to ask you if you thought it was a possibility."

"Not likely," she answered. "The Eluvian is in no condition to do much of anything but sit and gather dust, unfortunately."

"I was...sort of...afraid you'd say that." Merrill stepped up beside her and rested a hand on Hawke's elbow and smiled at her, a gesture that showed that she was still ready to helpful.

"What has he been doing that's different? If he was possessed, I might be able to tell you."

"Uhm," Hawke faltered, hoping to the Maker that Merrill didn't notice the pink she could feel crawling over her cheeks. "He's...not being very polite."

"Oh, well all the demons I've met have been very polite," Merrill said, as if that cleared up everything. "Maybe he's just having a bad day."

"Maybe. But... it's not like I sneezed and he neglected to bless me or anything. It's...worse stuff." Merrill continued to look at her with her wide, innocent, expectant eyes and she groaned. "He kissed me... A lot."

"Oh," Merrill's slender fingers popped up to her mouth as a giggle arose in her throat. "I always thought he liked you. Was it a nice kiss?"

"Merrill, he took _vows_. He's not supposed to do anything like that."

"Well, a kiss isn't so bad is it? I thought he just wasn't supposed to...do the naughty things." Hawke just stared at the blood-mage then, the silence heavy in the room as she found herself unable to clarify things any further. Merrill studied her for a moment, her mouth dropping open before clamping shut again. Well, at least she was learning to catch on to things better these days. Hawke blamed all the time she'd been spending with Isabela.

"Oh... Ooooh." She sounded more in wonder than anything else. "He...?"

"No!" Hawke huffed. "But he _wanted _to. I practically had to fight him off me."

"I thought you liked him, though," she pointed out. "Don't you want him to kiss you?"

"I guess, but not like that. Or...well, maybe that's not exactly true. I like him, but that _was not_ him."

"Did he ask you for anything? Demons like to trade favors."

"No." Hawke kept her response brief though the memories of Sebastian's conversation with her replayed over and over in her head. If anything, he had been offering to do things _to_ her rather than asking her to do anything. She shook her head to clear the thoughts away as that dangerous tingle resurfaced as a chill at the small of her back.

"I honestly don't think he's possessed," Merrill said. "I think he just really likes you."

Hawke wanted to argue, to insist that no matter how much he liked her he couldn't possibly forsake his vows just to get physical. He talked about little more than the Chantry, the Maker, and prayers whenever they were together. When she flirted with him he tried to deter her by changing the subject and he never remained in close proximity to her for too long. It didn't make sense that he would just suddenly throw that all to the wind.

She wanted to march into the back room and look at the Eluvian herself to find out if Sebastian had truly seen something. Doing so would have only made Merrill defensive again so she refrained. As a mage, the elf should have known if the mirror was doing anything out of the ordinary. At least, that's what Hawke hoped because she really didn't fancy the idea of going anywhere near the blighted thing.

So she said her thank yous and goodbyes and decided to make a stop at Anders' clinic in Darktown. If there was anyone who knew what it was like to be possessed, it would be Anders. As a healer, she knew he had made it a practice to not be terribly invasive when asking questions about his patients' ailments. Those were illnesses, however, and she suspected he might react differently to the idea that a sworn brother had somehow gotten a demon inside him. Details would be had.

"I think Sebastian's been possessed," she said as soon as he walked in the door. There, got it right out in the open, she thought. Anders glanced up from where he was bent over a table mixing herbs for salves and ointments. He must have taken her remark as a joke, which she wasn't surprised about considering how ludicrous the idea was, because he didn't looked distressed in the slightest.

"Did Andraste put him in the corner for time out?" he asked, dusting off his hands and turning towards her. Seeing her expression, his smile quickly faltered. "What, you're serious?"

"Anders, I know you don't see it often, but this is my serious face," she said, pointing at herself. "I am being _very_ serious."

He chuckled anyway and she crossed her arms indignantly.

"What? I'm sorry. It just seems so..."

"Ridiculous? Insane? Impossible? I know."

"What makes you think he's possessed?"

Hawke quickly reiterated her theory about the Eluvian, about how Merrill thought it was nothing, and about how she was starting to feel like she was a little crazy herself. No matter how she danced around the true reason for believing he was possessed, she knew the questions were coming. The more she talked about it, the more embarrassed she got. Since she purposefully excluded the more intimate details it always just sounded like Sebastian had been affectionate with her and that she was overreacting.

"I'll admit, it does seem odd for him. If it was anyone else, I would just assume your flirting had finally gotten to him."

"I don't flirt _that_ much."

Anders merely looked at her in utter disbelief, one brow quirking. "Oh, no, not at all."

"_Anyway_," Hawke emphasized. "Just for the sake of things let's assume he _is_ possessed. What can we do about it?"

"It depends. Sometimes you can lure a demon out of its host and destroy it that way, or you can confront it in the Fade like you did with Feynriel...or..."

"Or...?"

"Everything goes downhill from there, I'm afraid. Unless Sebastian starts taking souls for supper in the next few days, I'd suggest we avoid anything drastic."

Hawke sighed, rubbing her fingers against a tense knot that was quickly forming at the back of her neck. Although she knew Anders was honestly trying to be helpful it was obvious he still didn't entirely believe it was as dire as she seemed to think. It had never been such a trial to get her companions to follow her lead before. Had she really flaunted her attraction to Sebastian so badly that it was the only reason they could follow for his behavior? It didn't take her long to decide that Anders was a lost cause beyond his advice on provoking a demon, so she took her leave from the clinic. She hadn't realized how long she had been running about town until she reached Lowtown and saw that night had fallen.

The streets were empty of merchants and citizens, though she knew that there were plenty of thieves and criminals lurking about waiting for easy prey. Most of them knew Hawke by sight now and even when she walked home alone they knew better than to get in a tangle with her. Smart bandits like these were rare, however, and there were always a few who schemed to win their fortune by slaying the famous Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke had hoped tonight would not be one of those nights, for she had had enough excitement for one day, but they were never polite enough to pay attention to what _she_ wanted. Barely five steps into Lowtown, she found herself faced with an unimpressive rabble.

Without a second thought, her blades were in her hands and she was doing a dance she had done numerous times before. Their movements were sloppy and rushed, earning them bloody gashes that left them no hope of healing.

Somewhere in the haze of going through the motions, she noticed that some of the thieves were falling to the wayside completely out of her range as though they had spontaneously collapsed. She could barely see it in the dark, but her eyes glimpsed the neatly trimmed feathers of an arrow and she whirled, caught off guard. Those were Sebastian's arrows – no mistaking.

The way her heart began to pound in her chest threw her off her game and she caught a couple of hits to her jaw and arm. In one split second as she staggered, an arrow flew close enough to her face she could hear the squeal of it against the air until it planted itself with a sickening crack in the head of a bandit just beyond her shoulder. Her head jerked painfully as she followed it, looking down at the body that crashed at her feet.

Hawke's breath heaved heavily in and out of her lungs and when she finally looked up, silently hoping to see the glimmer of white armor only to be disappointed.

That may have been too harsh of a word. She was glad to be alive, happy for an ally to come to her aid, but there was no white knight sauntering towards her whispering prayers in thanks for their safety. Sebastian seemed to have forsaken the armor altogether for his casuals, absently slinging his bow over his shoulder with the quiver. His stride towards her seemed more playful than concerned, as though they'd just shared a rousing bout of target practice.

"What are you doing out here?" Hawke said, not bothering to sheathe her daggers in case she might need them again.

"Same thing as you, I'd wager," he said, adjusting his gloves and stretching his fingers in them. Hawke flinched as Sebastian deliberately stepped on one of the bodies on his way towards her. Definitely not Sebastian.

"Please," she snorted. "You should be in the Chantry for evening mass right now."

"Here or there. Either way I'm telling men how sinful they are for existing. This lot just got it at the wrong end of an arrow is all."

"Okay, enough! Who _are _you?"

"Sebastian Vael, as always, milady."

"Pft, right. Like everything you're doing absolutely screams 'Sebastian'!"

"Someone should." His lips quirked.

That was it. Hawke didn't know if she could take any more of this nonsense from...whatever he was. If a demon had truly possessed Sebastian, then she planned on forcing it out of him to face her. If Sebastian had really changed, then she planned on knocking the sense back into him. Either way, the rage coiling in her stomach unfurled in a frenzy and her fist, fingers still wrapped tightly about her dagger, slammed full force into the prince's pretty face.

He fell back a step, clearly not expecting that as he lifted his head and rubbed his knuckles against the tender spot. A tiny smudge of blood smeared over his cheek where she'd nicked him. The blue in his eyes seemed as intense as ever in the dark when he looked at her from beneath his brows. Hawke muffled everything inside that begged her to apologize for striking him.

"Hawke," he said, holding out his hand, palm up. "Give me the daggers." She narrowed her eyes and fell back into a ready stance.

"You took Sebastian, then you can just _try _to take these." With a quick flourish she brought both daggers up at arm's length.

"Lass, you're really starting to try my patience. I _am_ Sebastian."

"Prove it." Showing her that speed he'd caught her with before, it only took one and a quarter steps for him to have his hands on one wrist, wrenching the dagger out of her grip before spinning her around and disarming her entirely. The metal clattered loudly on the stone below as Sebastian stilled her with a hold on her arms and her back to him. His grip was firm, but only really hurt when she tried to pull away. He was silent as she fought him, wrenching about and imagining he was smirking at her though she could not see his face. When she finally wore herself out and paused, she felt him lean close enough that his breath brushed her skin.

"You think me a man possessed, Hawke...but you don't seem to realize that any man who dares to love you would seem as such."

Hawke gasped and choked, whether on fear or shock she couldn't be sure. One of Sebastian's hands moved from her wrists to slide over her neck and cheek, turning her face towards him. She felt something wet and warm on his fingertips that trailed along her flesh. A faint coppery smell told her she must have been bleeding from being stuck during the fight.

"You think I've gone mad...," he murmured against her jawline. "But it's you who's made me so."

"Don't you blame this on me," she said in a hissing whisper. "It was the Eluvian. It was the _mirror_."

"Oh, aye, the mirror..." She felt his hands leave her just for a moment, allowing her a breath of relief before they seized her again and turned her to face him. "That cursed thing that tormented me with dreams of you every night since. A man, even a sworn brother, can only suffer so much, Hawke."

"Dreams..of me?" she asked, feeling something between embarrassment and flattery. It made her insides turn uncomfortably.

"Oh, aye," his tone came the most guttural she'd ever heard it. He jerked her closer then, just coming short of covering her mouth with his like before. Hawke gasped against the heat between them. "And then I found the truth. 'Princes are not meant for chastity'...but _I_ was made for _you_, Hawke." She couldn't help it, the feel of him, the roll of his words, and the tone that promised things she'd secretly entertained at night in her own bed, alone; it all made her dare to close her eyes.

"Sebastian..."

"Yes, love?" That phrase alone made her shudder.

"Do you...mean that? Is it really you...and not some desire demon trying to will my soul away from me?"

He laughed, low and deep, quiet enough for her ears alone.

"I need no demon to give you everything you want..." His hands roamed lower, rough fingertips brushing just beneath the skirt of leather and tracing circles on her thighs. "...Everything you need." Hawke's hands shot out of their own accord, catching his wrists when his tricky fingers began to slide inward. Her eyes locked on his as she gripped his hands as if her life depended on it.

"Is this what you were like before the Chantry? Is it why they sent you away?"

"Oh, no, my dear," he said, leaning closer as if challenging her to hold her ground. "_This_ is much worse."

It was like staring down a wild animal, the intensity of its eyes making Hawke terrified to move even an inch while it was looking at her. She hoped her eyes were playing tricks on her as they dilated in in the dark, because it almost appeared as though the black of Sebatian's eyes had slitted rather than expanded like they should have. It only added to the pit of worry in her stomach. She waited, testing the words out on her tongue before speaking, and even then she wasn't sure they were the wisest she'd ever chosen.

"What now, then?" she asked, commending herself for maintaining a controlled tone despite the quiver that threatened to rack her whole body.

"Now, lovely Hawke," he whispered as he easily extracted his arms from her grip. "You _run_."

Hawke's body seemed to take heed of those words before her mind could comprehend them. The adrenaline that had been ever rising in her suddenly burst forth and she turned on her heels, grabbing up her knives before taking off into the shadowed alleyways of Lowtown. She almost felt as though her legs were going to run out from under her as she kicked up the dirt in a haste to reach Hightown, her home, anywhere she could bar and lock. Something in her insisted that lock and key wouldn't do anything to save her, but she quelled the thoughts and tried to ascertain whether or not Sebastian was actually giving chase.

Hawke didn't dare look over her shoulder for fear of running at full speed into an unseen set of steps or wayward bit of broken roof that tended to litter Lowtown. She couldn't have looked if she wanted to; she couldn't make herself do it. All her instincts forced her to keep her eyes ahead and, for Maker's sake, _run_.

When she reached the top of the steps at Hightown and saw the Chantry looming in the distance, she dared to slow her pace just enough to catch a breath. She kept her back against the stone of a building, eyes darting every which way to keep all sides covered. Her hand pressed to her chest, heart pounding furiously against it.

"Maker, why am I running?" she gasped. "It's Sebastian. It's _Sebastian_. He wouldn't hurt me. He _wouldn't_. Why am I running?" As she leaned over, hands on her knees, it was her own voice in her head that answers.

_Because you want to be __**caught**_.

* * *

><p>As a personal challenge, Hawke forced herself into brisk walk the rest of the way to the estate. She was determined to prove to herself that she was being ridiculous and there was absolutely nothing to fear. Her companions had probably been right and Sebastian was just toying with her to get back at her for all the teasing she'd tormented him with prior. What better way to do that then act out of the ordinary so she would never suspect it. He'd catch her off guard every time. Never would she believe that he would throw her against his bedroom door in the Chantry and begin kissing her like a well acquainted lover, or that he'd dare to touch her in such intimate ways.<p>

It didn't matter that Sebastian wouldn't _normally_ do that.

It didn't matter if deep down she _liked _it.

The point was that he'd done it, and she was angry at him for it. Angry and immensely sexually frustrated.

Hawke let out a breath of relief as she entered the estate, leaving her boots at the door. She softly padded across the cold stone floor and was halfway up the stairs to her room when she realized that it was rather dark. Usually, Bodahn left a few candles burning in the main hall, but in the chaos of the day Hawke had forgotten that Bodahn was not there. Neither was Sandal or Orana. The two dwarves had left three days ago to restock their supplies and Orana had been invited to stay with Merrill for the next week. Of all the times she had to be by herself, why did it have to be now?

But she was being silly again, she assured herself as she warily climbed the last few steps. She would just crawl into bed and try to forget everything that had happened. She could confront Sebastian properly in the morning when there were less shadows for him to lurk in. Peculiar thought, she had to admit, about Sebastian _lurking_

She closed and locked her bedroom door as soon as she was safely inside.

Though she felt some comfort in the familiar space, Hawke made it a point to have her night clothes ready so she spent as little time nude as possible when she removed the armor. It wasn't as though she suspected someone was watching her; she just didn't want to feel any more vulnerable than she already had that evening. In the process of pulling the loose shirt over her head, she was reminded of the dried blood there and moved to the small water basin in the corner of the room to clean up.

Now that it had a moment to process things, her body began to ache terribly from where she'd been hit. The spot on her cheek had stopped bleeding and the wound looked minor. She paused a moment as she regarded herself in the dark mirror, instantly reminded of the Eluvian. As an eerie feeling set in she quickly shook her head and stepped away from the glass, heading towards the bed.

A flame flickered to life just a few feet in front of her and she blinked against it, eyes widening at what she saw. Sebastian was sitting on one side of her bed, legs crossed in a lazy fashion while the other held the solitary candle up by his face. He smiled and it was hard to tell if it looked as wicked as it did or if it was the shadows playing on his features.

Either way, Hawke grabbed the nearest thing she could, which happened to be a book, and threw it at him. Infuriatingly, Sebastian caught the worn tome by its spine as it fluttered towards him.

"You need to be careful, love. You don't want to set the house on fire," he said, unceremoniously dropping the book on the floor. Hawke began to look for something else she could throw since her knives were currently out of reach, her vision spotting with the candle light when she looked away. Sebastian was on his feet and up in front of her before she had a chance to hurl the teacup she'd found.

He caught her hand and gingerly worked the glass out of her fingers, setting it aside more cautiously than he had the book.

"Get out of my house," Hawke huffed, crossing her arms to appear indignant and to hide the fact she had removed her breast band for the night.

"But you're all alone, lass. It would be poor form for me to leave you unattended."

"It's poor form to be in a lady's chamber in the middle of the night," Hawke replied, sourly. Her eyes darted to the candle in his hand and she noticed that it was not in any sort of holder, the wax curling down his fingers as it melted. "Sebastian, doesn't that hurt?"

"A dull ache," he replied, brows quirking as he tilted the candle so some of the wax seared into his open palm. Hawke gaped as he gave a deep, grunting breath, but didn't flinch in the slightest as he smeared it about in his hand. "Nothing like the heat in you, I'd imagine..."

She watched his hand drop into the shadows between them and she waited and dared him to give her a reason to hit him again. His hand pressed over her thigh, just slightly nudging up the end of the shirt, spreading the hot wax over her skin. It had cooled enough not to burn, but it startled her enough to make her jump with a sharp intake of breath. Sebastian had drawn closer, enough that his nose touched hers when he tilted his head. Hawke whimpered as the heat began to subside.

"This rush...it's torture..." he spoke softly against her mouth, brushing his lips there but not taking them with his own. Hawke felt more wax, slightly hotter this time, drip against her collarbone and slide down the curve of her breast. She bit her lip and closed her eyes tight at the feeling. "The way it scorches through your body... " Another drop hit her shoulder as he brushed the shirt away from her skin there. "This fire is what I feel when I'm near you, Hawke...and it threatens to burn me alive."

Hawke opened her eyes then, slow and languid as the wax began to cool, but her body only grew hotter. She locked eyes with him again and then turned her head towards the candle. Slowly, she reached up with two fingers, brushing her tongue just lightly against them, and pinched them about the wick, smothering the light as it hissed at her moist flesh. Sebastian caught the fingers in his mouth softly as they pulled away, tongue soothing the subtle burn on her skin, but doing nothing to stop it from coursing through her body.

As the candle landed with a soft thud somewhere unseen, the only thing Hawke could hear was Sebastian's breath just before he claimed her lips with his own. For all the relentless lusting he seemed to be experiencing, he was surprisingly gentle and tortuously slow. Hawke curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt just above his belt as the soft, wet noises hung the air. Just as she was certain that her legs may give out from beneath her, Sebastian stooped and caught her up beneath her legs, hoisting her up against him without missing a beat. Hawke wrapped her legs firmly about his waist, fingers raking through his hair as the kisses, a little more feverish now, continued.

For the briefest moment she wondered if she'd lost her mind giving into him like this, all concern for his unusual and animalistic behavior smothered by the consuming desire Sebastian described. She fought to keep her wits about her even as his nails pressed into the tender flesh of her thighs. He had brought her around to the bed and Hawke tilted her head to allow him access to her neck as her hands wedged down between them in an attempt to unhook his belt. Luckily, the belt buckle he usually wore was gone, else she would have felt strange having her nethers pressed up against Andraste's face. Sebastian chuckled lowly at her fervent offers, shifting her in his arms enough to provide more room for her hands. Hawke tried not to be impressed at how he held her up like she weighed nothing at all. She also made a point, and failed, to notice how firm his stomach was when her hands pressed against it on the way down.

Just as the belt came loose from his pants, Sebastian planted Hawke down on the bed and drove himself against her, the thick bulge straining under the fabric against her moist small clothes. Squirming beneath him, Hawke edged further up the bed towards the headboard. As she'd hoped, the prince took her motions as a challenge and stalked after her form on all fours, blue eyes glinting dangerously in the dark, smile curving in a way that promised she'd be screaming his name very soon.

When he'd backed her up against the wall, she dove in and kissed him again, curling her legs about his, one thigh at his hip. Much to her delight, he was rather cooperative and it took little effort to have him beneath her within seconds. By the look on his face, he actually seemed to be enjoying her little foray into dominance. Hawke supposed he was going to like this next bit even more, even if he hadn't been expecting it. No one just broke into the Champion's house and went unpunished, after all.

Writhing her body up against him, she nudged his arms up over his head and bit at his lower lip before brushing her tongue in his mouth. With the speed she had trained for years to perfect, she brought the belt up and quickly tightened the leather about his wrists, lashing the other end around the bedpost. After pulling on it a few times to make sure it wasn't going anywhere, she sat back on his lap and looked at him. Sebastian glanced at his binds and then looked back at her.

"You tricky thing," he said, a laugh tickling his tone.

"I'll admit something to you, Sebastian," Hawke said, catching a breath as she leaned over him and dug beneath the bedding. "I've been shamefully attracted to you since we met."

"You needn't tell me that. It was already obvious, sweet." Hawke snorted a little at his arrogance as she retrieved the dagger, feeling a bit safer with it in her grip. It was not nearly as large as the ones she took in to battle, but it would be more than enough to give her an edge if she needed. Her father had always taught her to be prepared for anything. Never had she thought one of those things might be _this_, but she still appreciated the lesson either way. Sebastian, despite being tied up and at her mercy, didn't seem bothered by this change of events. "Seems there are things about you I would never have suspected."

"That makes two of us," Hawke said, sitting straight up on him again. "The point is, though, that you could have asked me into your bed and I would have followed you willingly. All you needed to do was say the word. But you had vows, and I respected that. Tell me. What's changed?" She tugged open his shirt with her free hand as she spoke, gracing the taught muscle beneath it absently. Sebastian leaned back into the head board, sliding down it as though he was getting comfortable. He gave a slight shrug and Hawke seized his jaw in her hand, point of the dagger at his adam's apple. He failed to flinch at her silent threat, and just looked at her in that penetrating way that made her feel like he was already inside her, touching all those hidden places that made her tremble.

"I told you," he said smoothly. "Or...would you believe me more if I said I thought it would be dreadfully sinful...not to _fuck_ you?"

Hawke couldn't stop the strained noise that squeaked out of her throat. Her face was already going red, she could feel it, and was glad for the dark. Sitting back, she released his face and gripped the dagger harder to steady her hand. With deft precision, she drew the blade slowly across the surface of his skin on the left side of his chest, just enough to make him bleed. Sebastian made a deep, throaty noise and expelled a breath through his nose as she leaned down towards the wound.

She paused, took in a deep breath, and then touched the tip of her tongue against the blood that swelled there. Satisfied, she leaned up and chucked the dagger into the wall.

"And you think I'm acting peculiar," Sebastian hummed.

"Anders told me that you can smell when someone is possessed. Demons draw the life out of the body they've taken so it starts to deteriorate. Their blood, particularly nearest to the heart, will begin to smell sour, like rot."

"And mine?"

"Normal. Like copper."

"You sound disappointed," he smirked.

"Well, I...," Hawke paused. "I thought it would have made the most sense."

"Love..." She wasn't sure how it happened, but she was suddenly on her back again with Sebastian's hands tearing at her shirt and his teeth pressing into the soft flesh of her shoulder before lathing it with his tongue. "You should know by now that there's no sense here... Just raw...primal.._need_."

"What?" Hawke's eyes darted to the belt still wrapped about the bed post, it's tether absent of Sebastian's hands. "How did...?"

"I wasn't always a man of the Chantry, Hawke, remember?" he said, emphasizing the point by sliding his hand down her front and into the puddle of liquid between her legs, submerging his fingers in it and stroking about her opening.

"Maker!" Hawke gulped, tilting her head. Sebastian laughed, leaning up by her ear and breathing hot there as one of his broad fingers entered her, making her shudder.

"Not quite, lass... But I'll do my best..." His tongue slipped out over her ear and down the pulsing vein in her neck, trailing to her collarbone before he closed his lips about her skin and kissed there. Hawke felt like she'd just been blinded with the surge of arousal running through her body. It was as though her blood was on fire, its heat flowing through her. Her hands, which had been clutching helplessly at the sheets, found purchase in his skin as she pushed them beneath the open shirt and clawed at his back. Sebastian shifted enough to do away with the bothersome shirt, peeling her torn one away from her skin shortly after.

It was Sebastian. He was Sebastian. Sebastian was doing _this_, her mind frantically sputtered the thoughts. She wanted to scold herself for being such an idiot and not jumping him as soon as he'd had her against the door back at the Chantry. All that time wasted running around trying to figure out _why_, when she suddenly realized that she really didn't give a fuck.

She couldn't think of what to do with him ravishing her like this. All she knew is that she needed to do _something_, so she leaned up with her nails digging into the muscles at his back and bit hard into his neck. Sebastian moaned, hand balling up into her hair and pulling until she released him. He looked to her and grinned when their eyes met just before pulling her head to the side and returning the bite just beneath the edge of her jaw. Hawke yelped and gasped, swallowing thick as he nudged her legs wider with one knee between them, two more fingers joining the first in her sex while his thumb circled relentlessly against her nub.

"Sebastian!" Hawke yelled through a gasp, her plea only making him dig his teeth in harder. She wanted to beg him for more, but she wasn't sure she could handle it since she already felt she was at her peak. Leave it to the ever-willing-to-please prince to test that theory as he released her shoulder, leaving a dull ache, and slipped his fingers from her long enough to pull the soaked smallclothes down her legs. Then he was lifting her up into his arms again, Hawke feeling like a rag doll with all her limbs tingling as he pressed her against the wall and headboard, her knees over his shoulders. Her head smacked back against the wall and her hands wrapped fiercely into his hair again as he began to partake of her. She felt his tongue edging against the curve of her buttocks and crease of her thighs, cleaning up every bit of stray fluid until he returned to its source.

Definitely not the skill of a Chantry-boy, she thought as she strained against the onslaught of his tongue. She felt herself edging closer and closer to the pleasurable end, and just as she began to touch it, he pulled back.

She about screamed with agony. Sebastian just looked at her and instinctively, her hands flew to her own aid. He grappled at them both, forcing them away from her sex and up against the wall.

"Why?" she whimpered, trying to pull him in closer with her legs about his shoulders. Sebastian leaned in to her mouth and she could smell herself on him. He kissed her almost chastely, the swiftest peck of lips and she couldn't fathom how shocked she must have looked. "Damnit, Sebastian!"

"I thought it in my best interest to tell you...," he began casually.

"Now? Tell what?" Hawke said, obviously frustrated.

"I want you to know what you're getting into here, Hawke... And I want it to be of your own choosing."

"Yes, fine! Please just - !" He kissed her again, softly, to quiet her and pulled away only enough to speak.

"I have a confession, lass."

"Oh, gods, don't tell me you're having a crisis of conscience. Not now."

Sebastian chuckled. "No, but I thought I aught to let you know... that I am a rather...jealous man. I'm already in danger having tasted you...it's magnificent... But if I take you, love... I want to make you mine..." He pulled back just enough to catch her eyes. "_All_ mine... And in return I will pleasure you like this every day and night..."

Hawke clenched her legs about him as she began to feel her nethers swell and usher forth more wetness, as if her body itself was begging him to finish. Sebastian seemed to sense her need and released her arms to brush his knuckles against her to sate the ache. She sighed and pressed against his fingers.

"Promise?"

"I would be your lover, your soul-mate, your weapon if you so wished," he said, his voice husky with lust. "And woe to any man or creature in Thedas or beyond who dares to harm you."

"Are you making vows to me, Sebastian?" Hawke asked, unable to feel a little amused if not flattered.

"Well, I am praying before you," he smiled mischievously. Hawke leaned in and kissed him long and slow, bringing his tongue into play against hers just a little before parting again.

"You can make me yours...if I can make you mine." Sebastian grinned against her mouth.

"Fair trade," he said. Hawke heard the shuffle of the last bit of clothing separating them, his trousers, and moaned loudly as he lowered her from his shoulders and felt his shaft press up, spreading her and rubbing pleasantly against the swollen flesh. It didn't take long before the rush built up again as it lingered still from his attentions before. He pressed one hand to the wall, the other holding her up as his hips pinned her to the head board. Just as she began to tremble, breath becoming short and hips bucking against his, he dipped his own and lifted her enough to slide into her in one quick stroke. Hawke gasped, partially from the feeling of him filling her as her walls pulsed about him, and partially because he began to bite her again at the hollow of her throat. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he rocked in and out of her.

"Sebastian," she panted and he acknowledged her with a throaty grunt. "Bed... please..." He hummed and pulled away from her neck to shift and lay her back against the bed. She settled comfortably into the bedding, enjoying how much more pliable it was, allowing her to arch up against him. "Mmm, how does it feel to finally have me, Chantry-boy?" He gave a forceful thrust into her in response and she moaned, wrapping her legs tightly about his hips. "You like it, don't you? You thought about this every time you prayed...didn't you?"

"And all the times after," he said, burying his face against her neck.

"Bad Chantry-boy," Hawke grinned, hands running down his arms and thanking the Maker for all that achery practice he'd done.

"Your fault...tempting me so..." His thrusts became a little less controlled, a little deeper and frantic. Hawke leaned up by his ear.

"Look where temptation got you... In my home...in my bed...in my cunt." She felt him shudder, shaft throbbing inside her as he let go. He found her mouth again and kissed her through the panting breaths of his climax, the smallest bit of sweat dripping from his brow against her cheek. When he'd collected himself, pressing kisses to her mouth, forehead and jaw, he extracted himself from her and slipped to the side, pulling her up on top of him.

"You...have a dirty mouth, milady," he said. Hawke cocked a brow at him and he brushed her tousled hair back from her face. "I didn't say that was a bad thing..."

"No, not that. You called me 'milady' again."

"Aye...," he said. "As I always have. Or did you think that I'd suddenly forgotten how to treat a lady?"

"You can't blame me for thinking you've got a split personality."

"Afraid I'll suddenly shove you out of the bed and scamper for the Chantry to atone for my sins?"

"...Maybe." He laughed softly, a warm and comforting sound as she rested against his chest. He shifted up on his elbows, burying his hand in her hair again and pulling her into a deep, lingering kiss.

"I'm not going anywhere... And if I seek to pray, it will be before my own goddess." Hawke sighed against his lips, letting her fingers play against his jawline. "I am yours..."

"Yes, you are," Hawke said, shifting her hips a little as he became noticeably stiff against her leg again. She gave him a wry grin.

"Don't you look at me like that. I have a lot of years to catch up on."

"I didn't say it was a _bad_ thing," she echoed his previous sentiment. "Though, I have a question..."

"Hm?"

"Why did you tell me to run before?"

"Because I'm a hunter, Hawke... I like to chase wild things like you."

The way he looked at her then, Hawke felt a very familiar chill slip across her spine. Sebastian curled his arm about her waist and rolled with her so she was on her back again. He smiled wickedly, his hair a perfect mess from all their activity.

"Excuse me, lass... but I think I have some more praying to do."

_~FIN~_


End file.
